Reflections Of The Memory
by gedatsu-kitteh
Summary: ...this was the burden he was meant to carry alone. He wouldn’t share it for the world.


**AN:** _I'm in a weird mood today…_

**Reflections Of The Memory**

By Gedatsu-Kitteh

"_Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose." -The Wonder Years_

Nostalgia hung in the sweet summer air like a rusty old bell living out its days in the solitude of a school attic. The clicking of his heels abusing the pavement echoed through the empty streets making him aware of just how alone he truly was. His skin was pale from years of avoiding the sun and human interaction and his eyes were so empty that you'd be sure they used to burn with a searing childlike passion, determination and prodigious optimism, paling the vibrant sun in comparison.

His ebony hair struck the skyline like spatter of black paint against an ivory wall. Hunched shoulders spoke of the weights, the dangling burdens on his heart. He'd never known the luxury of friends or even acknowledgment of his passed victories. He was always so willing to give, to share the light of truth with everyone, only expecting a simple pat on the back in return. He'd played with fire defending his people (and he had the scars to prove it) only to be shot down mid-flight like a duck during hunting season; except ducks were actually accepted within society's close circle of friends.

But each time he fell he only picked himself up with increased sparks of zeal igniting within his soul. By society's terms he was a hazard; a threat to other children. Apparently his "insanity" was contagious. How much would it take to snuff out his spirit spreading like a wild fire? Not much at all… not much at all. Soon the solid walls of his spirit began to crumble under the weight of constant degradation turning him into the empty shell that was now turning the corner, heading down the block.

It wasn't long before his pace ceased and he lifted his head to gaze upon the small playground he knew from his days at grammar school. The links of the swings rusted long since he'd graduated. The slide's desperate cries for a new coat of paint fell on deaf ears. And maybe it was the light playing tricks; or just the glare from his glasses; but somewhere deep within the honey-brown, a small twinkle whispered its excitement as he stepped toward the neglected swings.

There were no traces of the epic battles fought here long ago; no monuments or historical land marks; nothing but his own existence and vivid memory (which was questionable according to others). This was where it had all began. This was where he'd come face to face with his greatest enemy (who ironically was the only one who gave him the time of day). This was where he'd saved their world. And this was where he'd destroyed his own.

He let out a heavy sigh as he allowed gravity to win the battle and pull his worn thin frame into an old squeaky swing. His feet could touch the ground now, measuring how much he'd actually grown since then. A breeze brushed his hair and wisped at his cheeks. The empty sky reflected in his eyes, reflected the memory; the memory that kept him alive.

No one knew what happened here. No one cared enough to bare witness. No one ever cared. And even if they did, he would never tell a soul. This was his and only his. This was the only thing he ever knew, and this was the burden he was meant to carry alone. He wouldn't share it for the world.

As his eyes melted into the sky he couldn't help but wonder… perhaps if he'd played his cards differently… he wouldn't be sitting here right now, lingering in the gloomy blue. Maybe if fate had made a different turn, he could have dipped his fingers into the heavens above and touched the stars.

Somewhere deep inside an old flame had been lit. Enthusiasm burned from the depths of his soul, flaring through his eyes. Hope.

_Squeak._

_Squeak._

He began to swing back and forth. Building momentum, he went higher, and higher still.

And maybe…

Just maybe…

If he tried really hard…

The memories would all disappear, like a bad dream… and he would fall into the endless sky…

And touch the stars.

End.

**AN:** _I feel depressed. Reviews would be nice. Or a hug maybe._


End file.
